


Clocks

by wordstothewisereaders



Series: Destiel Works [11]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 12x23 spoilers, Angst, Blood, Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, SPN - Freeform, Self-Harm, Suicidal Dean, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 07:45:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11436339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordstothewisereaders/pseuds/wordstothewisereaders
Summary: Hours had passed since Lucifer closed the portal. Enough time had gone by for the blood to dry on Dean’s hands. The light had long since faded from the fallen angel’s eyes. The sun had just begun to rise, barely illuminating everything with a very faint, beautiful glow. But Dean hadn’t moved. His voice was gone. He had screamed until his throat was raw, spouting out curses to anyone he could possibly blame: Chuck, Lucifer, Crowley. Those harsh insults had soon turned into pleas for mercy, anything to get his angel back.But he still didn’t move.





	Clocks

**Author's Note:**

> DO NOT READ IF EASILY TRIGGERED!!! This is for becs-bunker's challenge on Tumblr.

The lights go out and I can’t be saved  
Tides that I tried to swim against  
Have brought me down upon my knees  
Oh I beg, I beg and plead, singing

Hours had passed since Lucifer closed the portal. Enough time had gone by for the blood to dry on Dean’s hands. The light had long since faded from the fallen angel’s eyes. The sun had just begun to rise, barely illuminating everything with a very faint, beautiful glow.

But Dean hadn’t moved.

The cold dampness of the ground had seeped through his jeans and had soaked his knees. His jacket and flannel were ruined from the blood covering them. The hunter was shivering from the wet dirt and freezing air, and there was no doubt he would at least get a cold from it. He knew all of this, too.

But he still didn’t move.

His voice was gone. He had screamed until his throat was raw, spouting out curses to anyone he could possibly blame: Chuck, Lucifer, Crowley. Those harsh insults had soon turned into pleas for mercy. He would take anything, anyone, to get the angel back. The tears had rolled until they couldn’t anymore. The yelling halted only when it was too painful to continue. His hands trembled from where he clutched the ragged trenchcoat below him too tight. Everything about him was breaking.

***

Come out of the things unsaid  
Shoot an apple off my head and a  
Trouble that can’t be named  
A tiger’s waiting to be tamed, singing  
You are, you are

Sam had tried once to pull his brother away hours ago. He was met with a broken voice telling him to get some sleep. He knew it was useless to try to coerce Dean away then. He knew that you could never pull someone away from the one they loved above all else.

Long after Dean’s exterior broke, the wall in his mind started to crumble. He could not hold back the things he had thought for so many years, and he let them roll off of his tongue like the tears flowing down his cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, Cas.”

“You were too good for this.”

“It was my fault.”

“Dammit…I love you.”

“I love you, you hear me? I always have.”

“Please come back to me.”

***

Confusion that never stops  
The closing walls and the ticking clocks gonna  
Come back and take you home  
I could not stop, that you now know, singing

Dean finally made himself get off the ground. He never let go of Cas, hoisting the angel into his arms and laying him in the backseat of Baby. Sam joined him, watching him sorrowfully as he drove back to the bunker. They didn’t say anything, but his little brother rested a comforting hand on his knee.

Back home, Dean laid Cas on his bed in the angel’s room, squeezing his hand. He could hardly bear to look at the lifeless body anymore. It squeezed at his heart painfully. Instead, he shut the door and retreated to his own room, scared and hopeless.

***

Come out upon my seas  
Cursed missed opportunities am I  
A part of the cure  
Or am I part of the disease, singing

That first night was the hardest of Dean’s life. He couldn’t sleep. He could hardly make himself clean the blood off of himself, but that was just because he hated the blaring reminder. He backed himself into a corner of his room, sitting with bottles of beer all around him, and he drank until he passed out, almost happy to be out of it.

The next few days were no easier. He didn’t eat, even when Sam tried to force him to have a slice of his favorite pie. He slept maybe an hour a night, if the nightmares didn’t chase him down. It was getting too damned hard for him.

Sam had tried with everything in him. He had forced Dean to eat, even if it was just a nutrition bar, and he had to drag him to the shower and practically shove him in to make sure he bathed. Sleep he couldn’t do anything about, so he left Dean to his own devices when he had to get four hours for himself. Until the night where he found he had to start trying harder.

Dean had finally decided it was time. He knew it was twisted and horrible, but he couldn’t do it anymore. He was absolutely desperate to see Cas again, and not bleeding out in his head. He wanted to see his blue eyes and tousled hair again. He’d give anything to hear the angel scold him for doing something ridiculous.

He stumbled to his nightstand, groggy from sleep deprivation, and found his favorite knife. Backing back into his corner, he sliced at his wrists until all he could feel was the sting. He smiled as he felt himself losing consciousness, for he was finally going to see his angel again.

Sam found his brother half an hour later, barely breathing. He had come in to check on him, not hearing the sound of the cassette he kept playing 24/7 since Cas died. Thank Chuck he had.

There was so much blood. It was everywhere, staining Dean from his chest down. Sam gathered him up as quickly as he could and carried him to the bathroom, sprawling him on to the countertop. The best thing he could think to do was stop the bleeding. He wrapped Dean’s wrist as tightly as he could without cutting off circulation with some bandages under the sink. He used all of the training Bobby had given him and applied it to the best of his ability. It was the first time in a long time that he was terrified that this really was it.

Once Sam thought his brother was stable, he stripped him of his bloody clothes and tried to wriggle him into sweatpants and a loose t-shirt. He moved him back to his bed, pulling up a chair to sit beside him. He wished that he could take Dean to a hospital, get this sorted out, but he knew that they were at the top of America’s Most Wanted list, and the local facilities didn’t treat fugitives without cuffs.

Sam rested his head in his hands, taking a shaky breath. He was going to have to force Dean to talk to him. He couldn’t bear to watch him become another John. It was terrifying, really, but all he could do was sit and watch the steady rise and fall of Dean’s chest.

***

And nothing else compares  
You are, you are  
Home, home, where I wanted to go (You are)

Blinding white light surrounded Dean as he opened his eyes before a bright park of thriving flower bushes and green grass popped up. A man stood to one corner, happily flying a kite. Dean turned, startled to find a pair of familiar, beautiful blue eyes staring back at him concernedly.

“Cas?” he asked, nearly falling to his knees in shock. “Am I dead?”

“No. Almost, but no.” Cas replied, never losing his worried, almost angered expression.

“Where am I?” Dean asked.

“Does it matter? What the hell were you thinking, Dean, pulling a stunt like that? You’re almost dead! Why would you do that to yourself?” Cas asked, outraged.

“Because you’re dead, Cas! And now apparently I’m making this whole damned conversation up to compensate for your damned absence!” Dean yelled back, suddenly angering at what he thought was himself.

“This is real, Dean. This is heaven. This is where you should be coming in 40 years, not now! How dare you pull such a stunt? You were meant for greater things!” Cas argued.

“You’re gone! Lucifer staked you right through and I had to watch! Don’t you think that does something to a person, watching the man you love die? I couldn’t take it anymore, Cas!” Dean shot back.

Cas looked taken aback. “Dean…”

“Yeah, you heard me! I couldn’t live anymore! Hell, I had little reason to!”

“Dean Winchester, you listen to me,” Cas said through gritted teeth, stepping up and taking Dean by the jacket, “You are going to go home. You are going to be happy, just you and Sam. Take care of your brother, and, above all, take care of yourself. This was a foolish stunt, and I’m glad I caught you when I did. Don’t do it again, Dean. I’m happy here. I’ll be happier when I see you when I’m supposed to. Go back to Sam. You can’t leave your brother. It’ll destroy him. If you die again because of something like this, you won’t be so lucky. I beg you, please go back home.”

Dean stared at Cas, wanting so bad to stay this close to him forever, even if they never got any closer. He felt the heartache in his chest grow stronger.

“Cas, I…I can’t-mmph!” Dean started, cut off by Cas gently pressing his lips against his. It was everything he ever hoped for, making it even more painful for them to part.

“Please, Dean, for me? Please go home.” Cas whispered.

Dean closed his eyes, shaking his head. Tears rolled down his face as he felt everything go black, holding on desperately to what he could of his angel.

***

Sudden movement roused Sam. His eyes shot open, feeling a grip around his outstretched hand.

“Sammy?”


End file.
